The Order of Things
by alyells
Summary: oneshot; Sue and Will are constantly in raging battle. It's nothing new for them to fight over scheduling conflicts, but it's always funny.


**A/N: So it turns out that writing Sue is really, really hard. But oh, so much fun! I hope you enjoy this one; it's only a one shot to test the rough waters that are Sue Sylvester, but I think I may write some more of her. Please keep in mind that ****I am writing Sue**** and the touchy subjects expressed in this fic have nothing to do with me. It's merely fun, and I hope no one takes any offense. Read and review, and please enjoy! **

Sue Sylvester not only thought, but _knew_ she was superior to every other person, plant or animal on the planet. She generally referred to herself as a fusion of all things that were admirable from three of the worlds most famous and revered persons; Madonna, Mother Teresa and God. In her eyes, it was by divine right that she ruled William McKinley High School with an attitude similar to that of one Josef Stalin in the post-Revolutionary Soviet Union and an iron fist to make even the toughest convicts, juvenile delinquents and Islamic fundamentalists quake with fear. The students were her peasants, the teachers her nobles, and she, a dictator with absolute rule and a fabulous body. No questions asked. Never.

On this particular morning, that same Sue Sylvester was sitting in her office, drinking coffee from a mug that read "It's almost like you think I care". Spread out on the desk in front of her was her Journal, _Cheer!_ Magazine and several of the student's personal file folders. She glared down at the grinning faces, beaming up at her from school pictures attached to each folder, and shivered with vengeance and dislike. She set her coffee down on her desk, picked up a pen and opened the first folder that read "Eva Tucker". She scanned the file quickly, and poised her pen, ready to write negative comments sure to ruin the girl's future scholarship applications, when she was interrupted by a knock on her office door.

Sue rolled her eyes, closed the folder again and pushed her chair back from her desk. She remained sitting, and merely swung her legs up on top of the desk, crossing them and leaning back. She picked up her coffee mug again, positioned it so the text was facing whoever was about to enter her office, and called, "Enter if you dare."

Her eyes narrowed and her scowl deepened when her arch nemesis, Will Schuster cracked the door open and stepped inside. Sue wrinkled her nose, and a growl released itself from the raucous eternity of her vocal chords.

"Ah, William," Sue said menacingly. "I see you've decided to grace me with your presence yet again. How is life on the flamboyant side?HH"

Will came further into the office and closed the door behind him. He smiled his sickening, cabbage-patch-kid smile and nodded. "Yeah, sorry to interrupt-"

"And sorry you should be!" Sue exclaimed, glaring at the boyish face of the _Espanola _teacher she despised with every fiber of her supreme being. "You have disrupted what is perhaps one of the most important feats of my entire career. You, William, may or may not have destroyed the future of…" Sue paused, and then shook her head. "I'm sorry; I've just lost my train of thought. I was distracted by the generous amounts motor oil you seem to have mistaken for hair product this morning. Bottles are labeled, you know," she said.

Will rolled his eyes. "Sue, this is kind of important. If you could just…"

"If I could just what, William - drop everything that I was doing to tend to your personal matters? Do I look like a therapist to you?" Will opened his mouth a few times, and then closed it. Sue nodded. "That's what I thought. I don't have the time, nor the interest in you or your life, to abandon the planning for the future generation that I was so looking forward to doing. I have a deadline, William; I'm not sure how they say that in Spanish, but I'm sure it doesn't matter to those people, anyway. The future cannot wait, Schue, it begins tomorrow.

"And, not to mention, I have an appointment at four thirty that can simply not be rescheduled again; at this time, every month since I was a little fellow, I have made sure to make a point to have my upper lip hair bleached. I can't afford to be fuzzy – my cheekbones simply can't handle the competition," she said, running her fingers along the skin under her nose.

Will blinked, staring at Sue, who grinned at him toothily. "That's all very well and good, Sue, but…"

"And here you go again!" Sue interrupted, throwing her free hand up in exasperation. "It's all about you, all the time. You never think about anyone but yourself, do you? No, don't answer that; I can tell you for myself. You don't. You're a self-centered, narcissistic, personally absorbed little boy and you're thoroughly uneducated about the proper use of home-maintenance hair perms. You should aspire to be more like me. Sue Sylvester always puts others first; just look at my rows of trophies that I won _for my Cheerios. _That's right, Will – it's not about fame or glory, the internationally acclaimed titles or the sweet little corner office I've been awarded; it's about sharing the wealth, and oh, believe you-me, I have plenty of wealth to share." Sue gestured to her trophy case behind her head, and Will put his hands over his eyes.

"Sue, for the love of God… I need to ask you something that is very, _very_ important." Will sat down in one of the hard-backed chairs across from Sue's desk.

"Well, my little imp," she said, removing her legs from the desk and sitting straight in her chair, "ask away! Sue's all ears, all the time."

Rolling his eyes again, Will took a deep breath. "Figgins has just informed me that you've rescheduled all of your Cheerios practices."

Sue nodded. "My Cheerios need all the extra practice time they can get, William. Aside from focusing on their studies and their promiscuity, my Cheerios are first and foremost athletes. And athletes, as you would _not_ know, need to practice. Without practice, their talents become rusty, out of order, and wither away like the libido of a senior citizen who loses his prescription for Viagra. Let me tell you, I know from personal experience that when something withers like that, it never returns."

"Yes, I understand that," Will said, getting fed up now, "but your practice times are scheduled at the same time as Glee, every week."

Sue formed her mouth into a little "o", looking completely unconvincingly innocent. "Are they really? Who knew? I certainly had no intention of getting in the way of your off-Broadway productions, however much they significantly lack the luster and talent of a real cast of misfits, and it breaks my little heart to know that all of those pimple-faced understudies to the understudy are going to be conflicted."

"Don't play that with me," Will defended. "This was intentional, and you know it as well as anyone!"

"Intentional?" Sue countered, bracing herself on her desk and rising slightly from her chair. "No; intentional would be if I took the set of clippers out of my top left desk drawer, revved those babies up and shaved off the incredibly stupid mop you call your hair. That would be intentional. Our scheduling conflicts are completely and utterly accidental."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Will said, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't believe for one second that you didn't realize what you were doing, Sue. It's not the first time you've tried to bring Glee club down from the inside. I see right through you."

Sue barked a laugh and raised a single eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, transparent I am not, and I will not sit here and take this verbal abuse and accusations. I am a strong, independent woman, William; I am not to be treated like a piece of property. No, though I am stunningly attractive, so very young and voluptuous, I am not an object of mere sexual desire. The ultra-violet waves of passion are radiating from your eyes, but you can not and will not take advantage of Sue Sylvester. My sunglasses are on. I am wearing SPF 70 and neither your ozone-corrupting rays of desire nor any of your appendages can penetrate this protection. No means no, Schuster; there's nothing more to it."

"W..Sue…What?" Will exclaimed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. "You're not even making sense!"

"You think that doesn't make sense?" Sue countered, standing up now. "Try taking a walk down an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar country with your Latin lover, Juan, who doesn't speak a word of English, and try to find a place where you can lay your weary head and make sweet, sweet love 'til the new hours of the morning. That doesn't make sense."

"That's it," said Will, throwing his hands up. "I give up! You're impossible. I'm going to Figgins." Will stood up, shot one last withering look at Sue, and stormed from her office. Sue watching his retreating back from the comfort of her office, feeling self-satisfied and extremely empowered, and then pulled her Journal out from under the stack of student folders.

_Dear Journal, July 1__st__, 2010_

_Yours truly, Sue Sylvester, has done it again. Not only have I come one step closer to pummeling the life out of the embodiment of Satan on Earth that is Glee club, but I have successfully beguiled and berated William Schuster into a state of utter confusion and submission. He is a mere pawn in my game of chess; the chess game of world domination, one curly-haired disaster at a time._

_Schue thinks that by running off to Figgins, he can come from above and squash me like a bug. Little does he know, I have an orgy of evidence stacked against the man, proving that he is an illegal immigrant, living in Ohio as an extension of a child pornography business stemming from his home country of Denmark. Doubt it if you will, Journal, but the proof is in the pudding; or in this case, in the private investigator's undercover photos and discovered documentation. One minor slip of the hand, and Figgins could be uncovered as the sicko that we all know he is. I personally could not stand by and watch the students of this school be exploited and traded for a profit. No, if it comes to that, Sue Sylvester will have the upper hand._

_Needless to say, I am feeling both superior and aroused. My Cheerios have been performing to the best of their ability; I have implemented a new technique that I like to call "Sue's Bruises"; the girl who walks away with the most physical injuries receives a figurative pat on the back and an encouraging word from their very own super-coach, me. The team is responding well, and is more miserable than ever. Those who can't find a way to cause themselves or others physical pain are punished; the smell of fear is like my very own personal eau du cologne, and it tickles my nose and loins in an erotic manner. _

_The Glee-Cheerio conflict is exciting and the tension it is causing is making my Cheerios both resentful and susceptible to mockery. It is a hotbed of rivalry and questioned loyalty, which results in a perfect environment to spread anti-Glee propaganda. Not even my Q can pick a side; McKinley High is ripe for a civil war, and if worse come to worst, I will lead my Cheerios to yet another victory, defeating the party of homosexuals and prima donnas once and for all. The battle will rage, yes, but the Cheerios will arise from the blood and despair stronger, wiser, and over the cries of the wounded and dying, they will cry, "Long live the Cheerios! Long live McKinley! Long live Queen Sylvester!"_

_And yes, Journal, I will smile, and know that it is another job well done._

_Sue_

Sue closed her Journal with a satisfied smirk, and took another sip of her coffee. For a moment, she had been afraid that the margarine-covered nemesis would have the upper hand, but balance had been restored in McKinley, and she could rest easy knowing that Sue Sylvester still remained at the top of the food chain. Yes, all was right with the world.

And that's how Sue, C's it.


End file.
